


From Raphael

by Kairyn



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, Heavily Implied Crowley is Raphael, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Subtext, War, but not confirmed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22047700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairyn/pseuds/Kairyn
Summary: Aziraphale means From Raphael. Seems an odd name for a random angel to have...
Relationships: Aziraphale & Raphael (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	From Raphael

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love any and all speculation about Pre-Fall Good Omens. Really do. This one popped into my head for why Aziraphale's name is what it is. Also, as I was pondering this little thing, I rediscovered the song Torn by Natalie Imbruglia and I thought it fit so well with the sort of background subtext I was working with. War can make even the most devoted people struggle with their faith after all, and I imagine more than just one angel would have been struggling with it before people started falling. So, maybe give the song a listen but this isn't by any means a song fic. Just sort of sets the mood...

The pain was unbearable.

Indescribable. 

Ineffable.

And then embers of cold fire were slammed into the molten agony that he was sure was eating through his very soul. The conflict of two too terrible pains colliding in his soul was a crucible, and distantly, he was aware of someone talking. Calling to him with a sweet voice made for perfect harmonies with other equally sweet and perfect voices. A soothing balm that kept the shards of his sanity from melting away to nothing. He couldn't remember the source of this pain. This trial. Or anything before it.

Something soft and warm pressed against his mouth. Pure light filled him from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair. A comforting warmth opposed to the searing fire from before or the unbearable cold. The light was a relief that seemed to remind him there was something beyond pain. As darkness encroached on his still aching nerves, the warmth finally pulled away from his mouth.

Before the dark seeped across his consciousness entirely, he heard that perfect voice again. "... it was a lot, I know. But you made it through... I'm so proud of you." He could hear the truth in those words. "So strong. But you're different now. Always will be. And I'm sorry about that... It couldn't be helped. I don't know who you were before, angel. I wish I knew. But you're Aziraphale now."

Aziraphale.

That was a nice name, he thought before all others slipped away.

When he next came to consciousness, he was aware time had passed but not how much. Everything felt just slightly off. A little left of center or maybe a smidgen higher off the ground than it should do. Something fundamental had changed, he knew, although he wasn't sure what it could have been. The sky up above him was filled with giant swaths of stars and bits of colorful cosmic dust. There was a thin layer of fabric beneath Aziraphale, but he could still very much tell that he was on hard ground.

Aziraphale pushed himself up and lifted a hand to his skull that felt like it had been split apart and glued back together. He was lying beside a small outcropping of rocks in an otherwise torn landscape. Aziraphale shook his head a little bit and noticed that the bangs he'd been meaning to cut before this craziness started had gone from dark brown to platinum blonde. That was... odd.

"You're up," that perfect voice from his dreams said.

Aziraphale looked up, and his entire soul lurched up into his throat at the stunning being that was standing just there in front of him. Long silvery blonde hair (the color of starlight and not unlike the new shade that Aziraphale now sported) hung in perfect waves around a finely sculpted angular face and then melted into robes of purest white. Large wings were in the process of being pulled in to be folded against the tall angel's back. Aziraphale could see that the feathers appeared almost gilded with bands of color, although those closest to his body were pure as snow. A ring of gold, thinner than a finger but somehow as strong looking as iron and hovering behind the angel's head without touching anything, seemed to radiate a faint warm light. Eyes, beautifully verdant and reminiscent of distant nebula swirling with life and mystery, roamed Aziraphale's body briefly before returning to his face. "I was beginning to worry. You had been unconscious for so long."

Aziraphale only remembered bits and pieces from before, but this perfect being in front of him with the impressive wings, the ring of gold (a halo, his mind finally recalled), and a staff nearby with a head of two snakes twining around a glowing star (a gift to heal with from God Herself), all told him who this was. "Archangel Raphael."

Raphael smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Aziraphale noticed then that he had freckles. A sprinkling of them over his cheeks just like the stars he was reportedly always off making. "That would be me. How are you feeling?" Raphael asked as he moved to kneel down beside Aziraphale. His very presence was somewhat overwhelming. Aziraphale hadn't been around an Archangel since he'd been first made... and that was a fuzzy memory that didn't seem quite within his grasp. He pulled his attention away from that to the question he had asked. How did he feel? He wasn't sure.

"... different. And I'm not sure what happened," Aziraphale said honestly.

Raphael's smile faded, and Aziraphale hated that. It was a beautiful smile, and he wanted to see more of it. But before Aziraphale could say anything, the Archangel nodded. "I thought that might happen. I'm sorry. It was unavoidable. They've started using a new weapon... some sort of-of fire. It burns through us. Our very souls. I've never seen the like. I had to act fast, and I'm afraid I had to... well, to remake parts of you. If I hadn't seen you hit and been so nearby... I'm afraid you most likely would have perished entirely," Raphael said. An odd pain was in his expression, and Aziraphale had to wonder how many others had been hit with this fire. "Hence... you'll feel different. And I had to find you a new name. Names have power, after all. It defines us, and your soul suffered so much damage and had to be remolded so much... I hope you'll forgive me if I overstepped."

"You didn't overstep," Aziraphale said instantly. "Thank you for saving my life. I wouldn't have liked to die, I don't think. Is that why my hair's changed?" Blonde was common for angels, but this particular pale shade of starlight was less so.

Raphael nodded. "I used a lot of my power on you, little angel. Unavoidable that some of me might have translated over while I was rebuilding you. I was in a little bit of a rush, unfortunately. And this wasn't the best place to be trying to remake an angel. But, on the whole, I don't think you'll have gotten too many of my little... quirks. And you're still very much your own person, never fear that."

Suddenly, the peace was shattered. There was a distant sound of souls screaming, and the night sky lit up with fire and lightning that blocked out the stars and galaxies. Raphael turned halfway to look, and the easy smile he wore fell again, his eyes grew distant. "... sounds like things are getting a bit carried away out there," Aziraphale said.

"This is not getting carried away," Raphael denied without looking back. "We've moved past carried away to outright insanity. And this new... _fire_ they've come up with. I shudder to think how they managed it," Raphael said, nearly spitting out the word fire as if it were a vile curse.

Aziraphale wasn't sure what to say. It had certainly felt like he was dying from it, and it would not have been a pleasant death either. "We should... probably go and help fend them off again," Aziraphale said although he already didn't like his own words. Fighting felt so... wrong. Had it always felt abhorrent like this? He wasn't sure.

Raphael shook his head. "You need to stay here and rest. I put you back together, but you are still far from recovered. I expect it'll take a while yet before you're feeling up for anything strenuous. But you're right that I should go, at least... I don't really want to. I'm not really made to fight..."

Aziraphale couldn't help but look down at the sword that was on Raphael's belt, sheathed but undoubtedly forged with heavenly might. "I thought all Archangels were top fighters," Aziraphale said.

Raphael finally looked back at him. "Well, we're all capable, yes. But I'm not Michael. Fighting is not my main purpose. I make things. I heal things. I don't like destruction and fighting." The sky filled with fire again. Raphael looked to the sky with obvious distress. "And now this... it's all wrong..."

"Should I go back then?" Aziraphale asked.

"You should, yes," Raphael said although he sounded distracted. "Maybe if I... maybe I can talk to them... get them to stop this..."

Aziraphale frowned. "Do you think they'll listen?"

"I don't know," Raphael said. "But surely there has to be some-some other solution than just slaughtering one another. I mean... I know that they're upset. I don't understand what Her plans are either or why She does what She does but... but surely there's... some reason..." He didn't sound entirely convinced of his own words, and that was worrying.

"Oh, there definitely is," Aziraphale said immediately and confidently. "Her plan's just... ineffable, and we're not meant to know it. But, She definitely has one. It's all going to be worth it." Aziraphale nodded.

Raphael's head tilted a little to the side as he studied Aziraphale. A smile slowly lifted his expression again. "Ineffable... I'm sure you're right. This unnecessary bloodshed is just making me a bit melancholy, I imagine."

"Very understandable."

Raphael looked up at the sky again. "If it weren't for the fire and lightning... I think this would be a perfect sky, don't you?" Aziraphale looked up at the stars shining high above. He found himself nodding. "Some of my best work is the stars..."

"They are lovely," Aziraphale agreed.

Raphael picked up his staff and got to his feet. "I should go. Before this melancholy of mine rears its head again. It's... disturbingly easy to find yourself lost among such... horrible things."

Aziraphale worried about that. "Are you sure you want to go alone? I'll go with you."

"No, little angel," Raphael said with a slight shake of his head. "You're in no condition, and I won't have you risking harm to yourself. I'll be fine. You can do me a favor, though, if you're up for it."

"Anything," Aziraphale said.

"When you get back, tell Gabriel what happened," Raphael said before holding out his hand. A scroll of glimmering gold parchment appeared in his hand. "This will explain how I healed you in greater detail. Warn him if an Archangel isn't available I'm not sure it's possible. Perhaps a team of others could manage, but time is very short to save anyone that gets wounded by this fire. Gabriel will make sure those that need this information get it."

Aziraphale nodded and took the scroll. "Is there anything else?"

Raphael looked off to the source of the fire and lightning again. "Tell him that I'm going to try and talk some sense into them. I know he thinks it's futile, but I can't just not try. They're our brothers and sisters out there."

"Be careful," Aziraphale said.

Raphael gave him a smile. It seemed strained, but Aziraphale was glad that it was there at all. "Of course. I might be a bit shaken... a bit torn at the idea of fighting my brethren. I'll admit that... but I'm sure that something can still be done about this. Gabriel says I'm too much of an optimist, but it's always served me well in the past."

"It's a good thing to be," Aziraphale said.

"I think so too," Raphael said with a more genuine grin and a little chuckle. "Be careful on your way back, Aziraphale. Don't ruin all my hard work and get yourself hurt again."

"I'll be very careful if you promise to be," Aziraphale said. He mentally slapped himself for being so casual to an _Archangel_ of all people.

Raphael just laughed again. "It's a deal then. I'll see you later, I expect."

Raphael took to the air, his wings spread wide across the dark sky. Aziraphale watched him fly towards the fighting for a moment before taking to the sky himself. Down below, he could see the horrible damage of the fighting. Jagged rocks were thrust into dangerous angles, and a fire burned here and there while massive sinkholes and crevasses had opened up. But worse than the damage to the ground was the traces here and there of angels torn apart. Aziraphale couldn't tell if it was just discorporations or if it was something more permanent. He didn't think he really wanted to know.

Aziraphale tried to not study the remnants of war too closely, but his eyes kept betraying him and wandering to horrible scenes as he passed. Here and there, wings ripped from the back of angels were left near corpses and weapons had been abandoned, some of which were still flaming. It all made him feel sick. But he had been given a task by an Archangel. He would complete it.

Then, when Raphael returned, Aziraphale would thank him properly for saving his life. Surely by that point, Aziraphale could think of something appropriate. Just a 'thanks' didn't seem near good enough. Fire lit up the sky again, and even though Aziraphale was flying away from the fighting, the screams chased him back to Heaven.

Gabriel was not happy when Aziraphale returned and told him what happened. He paced back and forth. "He's going to get himself killed!" he snapped.

"Raphael is doing what he thinks is best," Uriel said in a much calmer tone.

Gabriel whipped around and held up the scroll that Aziraphale had dutifully handed over. "He's not a fighter, Uriel! And they aren't in the mood to talk! We've been over this! The things he wrote about this fire they've come up with... it'll destroy him entirely. He won't be able to heal himself if they use it on him, and nobody else will know how to do it!"

"Micheal is near there. Send Micheal to go check on him," Uriel said.

Gabriel huffed but nodded. "Yes. Of course... Raphael is so... blasted... impulsive, little brother, very impulsive..." he continued to mutter to himself as he left to presumably contact Micheal.

Uriel looked at Aziraphale. "Thank you for sending us word. If Raphael said you weren't recovered yet, then I'd take his word for it. Go rest."

"I'd rather be doing something, honestly," Aziraphale said.

Uriel seemed to think about this for a moment. "They could use help in the healing wards... if you go there, you can help, and if it gets to be too much, you'll be near assistance as well." Aziraphale nodded, although he wasn't looking forward to being surrounded by wounded and quite possibly dying angels. 

Word came some time later that the fighting had ended. 

And those that had been fighting had been cast out.

Fell, they said.

It sounded like a very innocuous word, but it sent a shiver down Aziraphale's spine. He waited after that, but he never caught sight of Raphael. They said he went off to make more stars. That the fighting had hurt him terribly, and he needed solitude to recover. Aziraphale hoped he healed soon. He still had to properly thank him.


End file.
